Deep Roots
by Femme Bono
Summary: An American traces back her birth family to England, only to find a heritage she shares and a love she had barely met. Warnings: non HBP/DH compliant, Lemons, Limes, Violence. Rated for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Deep Roots**

Cht. 1, Taking flight

_Atlanta, Georgia_

_mid April, 1971_

_It was quite some time before anyone noticed the swaddled infant laying on a chair in the busy waiting room of Grady Memorial Hospital. No one at all had seen the bleeding man stagger in with her, utter a brief sob as he laid her down gently, only to stagger back out through the ambulance entrance._

_"How old you think she is, Doc Broward?" asked Lesliann Caruthers, head nurse in the ER, as she fingered the closest thing they had to ID, a tiny silver bracelet with the name "Alyssa" etched into it._

_"Oh...say, looks of her, she's about four months old," said the man, still dressed for the golf course despite having been called in hours earlier for an emergency child birth. "You better handle her, Lessie, and give Child Services a call. I'm on m' way to OR for that last battery case come through just now. Ole Doc Powell ought'n to be around here somewhere. She still needs to be examined for anythin' might be internal."_

_"Will do, boss," nodded the nurse, tutting away at the still frightened baby, and she began checking the ER for the other doctor. Within hours, tiny baby Alyssa Doe, as she was named by the social worker, was given a clean bill of health and quietly entered the system for the Clayton County division of Child Services._

* * *

_Augusta, Georgia  
__early August, 1996_

For months, Alyssa Newland had been doubting her skills as a reporter. Research was perhaps the most important of all, and one she had considered sharply honed, yet when it came to her own life, she was starting to think her observational and information gathering aptitude was now abject failure. She scanned morosely through the micro-fiche for what felt like the thousandth time, yawning widely as the slide came to rest on the obituary section of the _Atlanta Times-Journal_. She had begun the search for her birth family since the nagging feeling of needing answers and a sense of belonging once again reared itself. Time and again she had scoured the papers from around April '71 looking for some trace of an unfit mother who had to give her up or parents who had died, leaving behind their beloved child. Strangely, despite checking police blotters and obituaries, she had found nothing. No one knew who had left her in the waiting room, and no one had answered the _Atlanta Times _story about an abandoned baby. Not so much as an anonymous tip to the police hotline listed at the end of the feature.

Thinking of the worn article she kept tucked in her purse, Alyssa stiffened her shoulders and scanned over the rest of the page. And cursed loudly enough to elicit a scandalized "shh!" from the old biddy of a librarian. There, at the top of the page was an article on a search for a missing child. As she read on she could see why it didn't rate the front page. Some British nationals had been searching for a couple of weeks by that point trying to discover the whereabouts of a baby girl whose parents had been killed in a car accident in Atlanta. Intrigued, Alyssa kept reading, humming low in her throat as her interest was piqued even further. Archie and Grace Evans, it was believed, had brought their child on a business trip with them, a sixteen month-old named Alyssa Rose. The search was called off, however, when a car seat was found in the woods on a subsequent search near where the wreck had occurred. Her hands now clammy, a sob caught in her throat, Alyssa printed the page and tried to steady herself enough to dial her boss.

"_Augusta Chronicle_. How may I direct you?"

"Mr. Reems' office, please," she said a little shakily as she glanced at her watch. Seconds ticked by.

"This is Reems."

"Louis?"

"Yeah, Alyssa."

"That feature series we talked about a while back? On the difficulties of tracing back biological roots and reuniting with birth families... I found my lead."

"On your family? Atta girl! So where are you off to on the company dime?"

She steeled herself and took a breath. "Looks like England, sir."

Minutes later, after assuring Reems of her seriousness and resolve, with an equal measure of cajoling and brainstorming for multiple stories to spin off from the trip, Alyssa called the woman she had considered a mother ever since her freshman year of high school.

"Mom?" she said, tremulously. "I think I found them."

She heard the voice catch at the other end before Hettie Newland spoke. "Do you want me to go with you?"

Alyssa chewed her lip for a moment before she spoke. "I, um...I think I need to do this on my own."

"Ever the independent one," her mother replied. Yet Alyssa knew the tone, the wry humor and easy understanding. "You'll at least have some closure, there. It's high time. So where you off to?"

"The UK, of all places."

"Hmph!" Hettie chuckled at last. "Well that would explain the anglophilia. That's somethin' honey."

"Yeah."

"Well, baby girl. Get on over there and see what's what. I'll be here when you get back."

"I love you, Mom."

"Love you, honey."

By the next morning she was stowing her carry-on and thanking all that was holy that she had a small frame and could easily fit into the cramped economy-class seat. She sat back, her Discman at the ready with a handful of cds of British bands to set her mood for the trip, and reflected on the winding trail that had led her life to this point. Orphaned, as she had always assumed, a true product of the system who spent years in and out of foster homes. Some bad, some worse. A nearly straight-A student who worked her way through college in three years' time. And, more recently, a divorce.

Divorced after only two years of marriage. After coming face to face with the truth of her husband's betrayal. After rounding a corner at the local hospital and finding him wrapped around one of his nurses. At first, naturally, she had been enraged with Jamie, now that she understood the pitying stares she had gotten from his colleagues for some time, and at Dorsey, the petite perky r.n. In fact, there had been quite a scene in the obstetrics ward that day. Yet in the six months that followed, Alyssa had worked straight through her mad stage and hoped she was approaching acceptance at last. She still remembered the day she told her mother that she had found out Dorsey was pregnant. "It's my own fault," she remembered saying, then shook her head as she watched her mother's eyes well up with pity. "No, I mean it really is my fault, Mom. When I found out he was cheating, I went home and took one of my sewing needles to his condoms. I poked a hole in every one of those little suckers. Used the tiniest needle too, so the hole was small enough you couldn't see. "

"Alyssa!" her mother said on a shocked gasp. "Why this is scandalous, honey!"

"Well, I figured she wanted herself a doctor and he was so damned determined to prove his virility, I thought I'd help 'em both out-and maybe they'd learn a lesson in the process."

"Why, hadn't you thought-what about the baby?"

"I imagine it'll be a real good lookin' asshole eventually. Genetics kinda dictate that."

At the thought, Alyssa smiled smugly to herself, leaning her head against the miniscule window as she watched the plane taxi down the runway. In a mere eight hours, she may finally reunite with the last remaining birth relative she had, a sister. Petunia Dursley, ne Evans. And maybe the pieces of the puzzle would fall together, maybe her dreams would make sense.


	2. Chapter 2

Cht. 2, A sort of homecoming

By the time the plane touched down Alyssa was peering blearily out of the tiny glass at her first view of London. Delta's excuse for coffee had done nothing to keep her eyes from closing on the lengthy flight, and she had already seen and not been amused by the cheesy comedy of the in-flight movie. As a result, she nodded off halfway through her much worn copy of _The Bends_, only to sit bolt upright hours later when the customary _ding_ sounded and their descent was announced. The sight did nothing in particular to inspire hope. The sun had set moments before and harried skycaps now rushed around through a settling fog loading the luggage onto trolleys and ferreting it away to the inner depths of Heathrow. Alyssa groaned and yawned widely, stretching as much as was humanly possible in the cramped space, which had long since been filled by a ruddy-faced man who had finally given up trying to impress her with the success of his latest business interest.

Taking a deep breath after making her way through the morass of security points, luggage reclaim, and so forth, Alyssa hesitated only a moment when the russet-haired customs agent asked, "how long is your stay, miss?"

"Eh, only two weeks, I hope."

"Very well." Shrugging noncommittally, the agent simply stamped the passport and waved her through. With that, she hitched her carry-on securely onto her shoulder and streamed through the automatic doors, trailing her suitcase behind her. Alyssa snagged a cab at the curb, gave the driver the name of her hotel and settled back in the seat. It was only when she had checked in, gotten the key, and shut the door of her room behind her that Alyssa gave in to desire and swept open the curtains to a view of the full London nightscape. Dropping the carry-on to the floor, she clenched her fists and wiggled her hips in a happy dance, squealing excitedly. "I'm in London!" she laughed breathlessly to herself.

***

First thing the next morning, Alyssa snagged a hot croissant and coffee at a corner shop and hopped a train on the London-Edinburgh line headed for Newcastle-upon-Tyne. While her research had shown that Petunia Evans, likely her only surviving sibling, had married one Vernon Dursley, she was unable to find out where they were living nowadays. So in her never-ending quest to return to her roots, she thought it best to start at the beginning--in a word, at her family's old home. Through the British press covering the Evans' accident, she had discovered that they used to live in the northern town near old Ridley Mill.

Her drive to find her origins increasing every moment, she hopped into a cab after the three-hour train ride and with nary a glance as they passed the university, leaned forward over the seat back and watched as they crossed the river and headed west to check into her hotel and find her childhood home. The driver barely raised a brow as he dropped her on one end of Old Mill Walk. Lucky it's a short street, she thought as she slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the first person she found out of doors, an elderly woman hunched over and muttering as she picked up trash that had blown into her sparse yard.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, aye," said the old woman loudly, shuffling around to face Alyssa. Taking one look at her, the woman sized her up. "I'll not be buyin' nothin' today, so be gone with ye."

"I'm not selling. I'm here to track down my family and I understand that they used to live hereabouts. I'm not sure if you've been here long enough to know them; they would have lived here in the seventies," assuming the woman was hard of hearing by her tone and wanting to carry the conversation across the street where another older lady looked questioningly at them as she ambled out to check the mail, Alyssa raised her voice and beamed a smile at both ladies.

"Oi! Would you hear that, must be the littlest o' them Evans girls back to find her sisters," the lady from across the street piped up. "I told ye they took the baby wi' them as they left from 'ere, Mildred. See and she's got that Yank accent from growin' up 'cross the pond. I say, she mus' not a died in the crash after all then."

Mildred waved a hand at her companion as she clutched her bag of trash. "Can' say as I know what happened to them Evans girls after their parents died. They was bundled off ter live wi' an aunt." Her creased face wrinkled even more in thought. "Tho' that Snape boy may well know. Lives down Spinner's End, he does, there," she said, indicating a side street further up toward the old mill. "Not much more'n trash, he was, and I'd not be knowin' what those girls thought, havin' any truck wi' that one. He was the kind what kicked cats, he was." At that, she spat vehemently on the ground and shrugged her shoulders, "but if you'd be wantin' ter find yer family, he might be the one what could take you to 'em. Jes' be careful, he's a strange one he is and up to no good most of the time. Gone more months of the year than he's home and dresses in black like the devil himself, swoopin' around like a great bat and pale as death."

"That he does," wheezed the other woman. "I'd lay odds he's het up into drugs and devil worship and no tellin' what all else," she said, with a nod for emphasis.

She made a sign against evil and Alyssa barely suppressed a derisive snort before cutting into what she was sure would be a unfounded gossipy tirade. Deciding she'd heard enough, Alyssa thanked the old women and made her way through an alley to the next small street, more an offshoot to Old Mill than anything else and decidedly drearier. Loathe as she was to stay in that conversation, Alyssa had not even bothered to ask which house. Having lived in the Bible belt, she had had more than her fair share of talk about devil worship and superstitious, supercilious behavior from assuming minds. In fact, she was more concerned that he might not be home, given what the woman had said about being gone so often. Taking that as a reference, she looked for the home that looked the least lived-in as she wrapped her calf-length cardigan more tightly around her body. Mildred had said nothing about his having married, and Alyssa deduced that if his personality was true to its reputation he probably wouldn't be. But then, he was supposed to be a devil-worshipping drug dealer, so who knew. She sidestepped tricycles, boots scuffling as she crossed the cracked pavement, nodded to the old men sitting on their stoops whiling the day away. Putting on her best plastic Southern belle smile, she asked as she neared them, "do either of you know which is the Snapes' house?"

The smiles dropped abruptly from the men's faces to be replaced by questioning, somewhat apprehensive looks as they spared a glance at each other. Saying nothing, they simply pointed to the last house on the left before the street dead-ended at a dilapidated playground. Taking that as confirmation of his reputation, an uneasy feeling roiled in her gut as Alyssa stepped up tentatively to ring the bell.

From what she could tell of the person who answered the door, her first impression had her tossing the devil worshipping drug dealer rep and forming her own assumptions. She had sat in on too many court proceedings to peg him as a druggie, but judging by the state of his unkempt hair and nineteenth century garb she placed him as someone who simply read and watched entirely too much Poe and Tim Burton. The hair hanging over his sallow face looked as though it had not been washed in weeks, and yet his Victorian-inspired suit was impeccably clean and buttoned right up to his chin. Despite the appearance, a wave of recognition passed over her for a moment, engulfing her in a sense of belonging she had not felt for as long as she could remember. So overwhelming was the emotion that she felt a lump rise up in her throat and had to swallow hard before she could speak properly. She felt strongly that she was on the verge of remembering something and at the same time knew that this was someone she could trust. For the first time, Alyssa knew she was on the right track, but just why, she could not say.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Ah...you must be..." What in the world is his first name, she thought. "Your name is Snape, right? I'm ah...Alyssa," she said, struggling for composure through the feelings that still rocked her. "Alyssa Newland. I was told by a couple of your neighbors that you may be able to help me find the Evanses, or at least a Petunia Evans. I think she may have been my sister."

At this, he swung the door open fully and looked her up and down, narrowing his gaze. She knew she flushed straight up to her hairline at his wordless perusal. He took in her willowy form, the cobalt eyes in a delicate porcelain face, the full mouth and fine features, hair of burnished oak spilling in curls from her cabbie hat. "You look nothing like them," was his assessment.

"I think that would be left up to the test results though, whether we are related or not," Alyssa answered, attempting a laugh as her insides dipped a little. So much for feeling like I fit right in right down to the looks, she thought. And where in the world were his manners? Couldn't he ask her in?

"Do you know where I could find Petunia at least?" she asked, abandoning all hope of a civilized conversation. "I do know that she married a guy named--"

"They are now living a full five hours from here," he cut in, then tipped his gaze directly into her eyes. Feeling as though he were peering into her very soul, Alyssa saw any number of memories surface into her mind, of foster homes and college days, finding Jamie and Dorsey together, and even one she wasn't sure she had known was there. A red-haired girl laughing as a baby clung to a morose looking boy in an oversized coat. "You're best off taking the rail back to London and from there to Guildford. From there, Little Whinging is a short ride. You'll want number 4 Privet Drive."

"Thank--"

"Do not thank me, quite yet. You have not met her. Or her poor excuse for a nephew." And on that note, he shut the door smartly. Alyssa stood there speechless for only a moment when she heard a loud crack, which she would have taken for a car backfiring except that it seemed to have come from inside the house. Shaking her head, Alyssa made her way back down Old Mill Walk to a phone booth and once she secured a cab and returned to her room, began to make plans for yet another train ride the next day and allowed herself to replay the day's events, lingering over the strangeness of Mr. Snape. In her dreams that night, she again saw the laughing girl and the dark lanky boy and knew, as one knows in dreams, that she was the baby.


	3. Chapter 3

A Cruel Irony

Later that day, Alyssa told herself she would allow for the indulgence of a rental car. _No more damn trains_, she swore. It was an unholy mess that took an IQ of 180 just to translate the madness that was the scheduling system, not to mention trying to traverse the London Underground. With that thought in mind as she arrived in Guildford, Alyssa checked into the nearest Jurys Inn and hunted up a car rental. By the time she made it to Little Whinging though, far southwest of where she had started her morning, Alyssa was keyed up and battling a swarm of butterflies in her belly, some of which were from trying to navigate while driving on the wrong side of the car in the wrong side of the road. As she pulled in front of the house with the tidy postage stamp sized yard, she allowed herself ten shaky breaths before she yanked open the door and hurried up to the house to ring the bell before she lost her nerve.

She scarcely contained herself from hopping up and down on the front stoop when she heard footsteps approaching. Her first impression of the woman who opened the door was to thank all that was holy that her own nose was not nearly as pointy. The lady's nose was only accentuated by a pointy chin and reminded Alyssa sharply of a horse. "Well?" clipped the woman as she stood framed in the doorway wearing rubber gloves and an apron over her dress.

"Uh, hi," stammered Alyssa, suddenly nervous all over again. "Are you Petunia Evans--I mean, Dursley?"

"And who are you?" she asked.

"My name is Alyssa Newland. I've been trying to find my birth family and uh--well...I found an article in the paper back home--in Georgia that is--that... I think I might be your sister."

The woman, presumably Petunia since she didn't deny it, looked aghast for a moment before finally stepping aside. "Come in...Alyssa...you said?"

"Yes, thank you."

"That was my sister's name." Petunia said, peeling off her gloves as she ushered Alyssa into the living room. She seated herself on a horrendous flowered chair that practically screamed Laura Ashley.

"Well, that was my first clue actually. I found an article in an old newspaper telling about how your--I guess maybe our--family searched for a missing baby after the parents were killed and it mentioned that her name was Alyssa. Now, I was actually found in a hospital waiting room not far from where the crash was, and they called me Alyssa because it was on a bracelet I was wearing at the time. So... if nothing else, I'd at least like to take a test to see if maybe you are my... birth family. I mean, I'd be willing to cover the cost and everything..."

"Well, I suppose it would do me no harm to help you out," Petunia replied, her lips pursed as if she were weighing the cons nonetheless.

At that point, the front door opened as a scrawny teen popped in and sauntered upstairs, barely glancing over at the two women seating in the room flanking the stairs.

"Good, thanks. I'll see if I can find a place here to set up an appointment for the test, and then I'll be back in touch."

Alyssa glanced up at that moment to see the teen who stopped in earlier sitting on the upper portion of the stairs, with his mouth hanging open in shock. Apparently, he was astounded at this revelation as well.

"How in the world did you happen to find out about us?" said Petunia, fidgeting with the eyelet detail on her apron. "That is, not that I mind you showing up at our door unannounced, but how did you know where we live?"

_Catty little minx aren't we_? thought Alyssa. _Do I want to be related to her_? "Oh well, that was easier than I expected. The article mentioned that the Evanses had lived in Newcastle near an old mill, and I found Ridley Mill and a couple old ladies who remembered the family. They sent me to a guy named Snape they said you knew as kids."

"_Snape_?!" said Petunia. Alyssa noticed there was an echoing hiss from the stairs.

"So you remember him... Yeah, he was pretty strange, but he did tell me where to find you guys. Probably needs to get out more though."

"Of course I remember him," replied Petunia in a low voice. She tried for a grin that came out as more of a grimace. "He was more my sister's friend rather than mine."

"Ah, yeah." What the heck is the story here? "I did another search to see if I could find you and Lily before I left home. The only thing I could turn up there was that she had died. I'm sorry."

"Oh it's nothing, really," she said with a tight smile. "As it happens, we weren't all that close."

Minutes later Alyssa sighed deeply in relief as she settled into the car again. The details of the uncomfortable conversation kept flowing through her mind. It seemed her newly found sister, if indeed that's what she was, had some interesting family dynamics. In fact, their conversation had only gotten more tense the more Alyssa had tried to suss out who the Evanses were. _Do I really want to get into this_? she thought, not for the first time that day. But she had to know, at least to be familiar with where she came from; she needed that sense of closure if nothing else.

She opened her eyes again only to groan inwardly at the pamphlet that had been stuck on her car while she was in the house. It was acid green and folded so the front faced her. Unable to believe her eyes at the question posed on the front, she hopped out and snatched it out from under the wiper blade so she could read it properly. Sure enough, the words emblazoned across the front said: "Want to know who your family is?" and below it were the name of a Dr. M. Fletcher and an address right there in Little Whinging. Alyssa sat perusing the brochure which stated that the doctor's service provided immediate results and that walk-ins were welcome. "Un-freaking-believable," she said aloud. "That is all too ironic."

Hopping back out of the car, she raced back up the steps to ask Petunia what her plans were for the next day. It was high time to get some answers, she decided.

****

The next morning found Alyssa and the entire Dursley family waiting in a cramped, dingy waiting room downtown. Even Harry, the shaggy-haired teen who turned out to be Lily's orphaned son, was there propped against a wall shooting periodic glances over at Alyssa as if she had just dropped in from another planet. _Might was well have_, she thought, tapping the pamphlet against her palm as the receptionist filled out the necessary paperwork. She was not quite sure what to think about the office in which she found herself; at worst she had been expecting tacky wallpaper borders, brass lamps and outdated copies of _Kiplinger's_ and _Time_. Maybe things were different in Britain, but as she glanced back at the pink-haired receptionist she could not help but think that something seemed seriously off. The place smacked of a fly-by-night business, and she wondered briefly if she should have dug up the British version of the Better Business Bureau--whatever that might be. Even as she thought this, the receptionist looked up at the two waiting women. Alyssa could swear the girl had violet colored eyes. Weird contacts.

"Alright, then, everything's set," she said. "If you'll step back through this door, and through the one at the end of the hall, Doctor Fletcher will be right with you." And then, in a strange display of familiarity, she winked at Harry of all people. "Wotcher!"

Harry smiled at her, then looked at his aunt Petunia and shrugged. Petunia on the other hand, began to look as suspicious as Alyssa felt. But before she could say anything to question what they were doing, Petunia was down the hall and through the door at the end. Alyssa caught up with her, just in time to meet the doctor. A squat, bowlegged man in a lab coat with straggly red hair and bulging eyes. As they entered, he was sipping from a Styrofoam cup which he quickly put down to clasp hands with the two women.

"Please to meet you ladies," he said in a big gruff voice that did not at all match his small stature. "If you'll both please have a seat, we'll get right to this. I need you both to look right here..." He pulled out a long thin piece of polished wood from his pocket and pointed it at them both in turn. "_Obliviate_!" was the last thing they heard before the world went fuzzy and dim. "_Confirma genuseris_," he continued, tapping each woman in turn while their vision was still unfocused. A small light rose from each of them, joining over their heads between them where it turned bright gold and shot off sparks before dissipating completely.

At that moment, the receptionist popped her head in the door. "Wotcher! How'd it go then?"

"It's positive," he replied, sparing her a glance as Petunia and Alyssa blinked rapidly and looked around.

"Sorry?" said Petunia.

"There, you're feeling better ladies," he replied smiling. "I suppose the blood made you a bit peaky, but it's all done and congratulations. You are sisters. Of course it is about 99% effective, this test, but we will send the samples off to our laboratory for further review. You should receive confirmation within 7-10 days."

Still shaking their heads to rid themselves of the tunnel vision, Petunia and Alyssa stepped silently back down the hall to their awaiting family still trying to digest what they had discovered. As soon as they had left, the red-haired man took another swig from his cup and glared at the receptionist. "Don't think you could have kept your nose out for a bit longer, eh Nymphadora?"

"Oh come of it, Moody, I was dying to know how it went. They were still Obliviated."

"And starting to come out of it, too! Anyway, what's done is done, let's just get to Dumbledore and see what's next on the docket. She'll have to be protected as well now, and furthermore, she'll have to be told."

Without sparing each other another glance, they both blinked out of the office only to appear miles away in front of a set of iron gates.

-------------------------------------------------------

_Confirma genuseris_-- roughly, 'confirm parentage'


	4. Chapter 4

Ending and beginning

"So. What is this deep dark secret you have to tell me about our family?" Alyssa asked, trying to sound positive as she sat in the living room over a steaming mug of tea, surrounded by the Dursleys and Harry. It was merely two days after the test and the Dursleys had called her over for an important talk, but if Petunia was about to tell her that one of their ancestors had admitted to being Jack the Ripper, she was not sure if she could take it. She was still adjusting to the idea of having a permanent family.

"Well...er...it's about Harry."

"Yeah," she said glancing at the boy with a conspiratorial grin, "you said he was a delinquent. Goes to St. Bart's or whatever." _Had he stolen something, _she wondered.

"Not exactly. He, erm, is really more of a ... a _freak_," she hissed out finally. Harry simply rolled his eyes.

_Oh God_, Alyssa thought, _is the kid a pedophile_? He didn't look like one based on Alyssa's experience but... "Okaaay... and why do you say that?"

"He's actually a--that is, he's really a...wizard."

"A wizard." _What the hell is this, a welcome-to-the-family joke? A sort of initiatory hazing type thing weird British people pull on their long lost American kin folk?_

"He actually does magic. Real magic, that is, and it's sort of a family secret. We don't want the world to know of course that he's not _normal_, but as you're family you must know. We'll just ask that you keep it amongst us. Not even Vernon's aunt Marge knows." Vernon shook his head at this, keeping his arms crossed and sitting so far back from the coffee table he was nearly touching the wall. Dudley had scooted closer to his dad and the two made a unit opposite Harry, who sat glumly avoiding everyone's gaze.

"What sort of magic do you do, Harry?" Alyssa asked quizzically. A stirring feeling in her gut told her this may not be a joke after all.

"Oh all sorts," replied Petunia, cutting him off even as he tried to speak. "Levitating cakes, growing his hair out, shrinking sweaters... nasty foul _potions_," she spat.

"Can you turn into an animal?" Alyssa interjected stopping Petunia mid-stride, who looked at Harry as if she wondered too whether he could or not.

"No, but I do know people who can," said Harry, thinking of his father and the Marauders.

"Cool."

"What?!" squawked Petunia. "You can't actually mean that you find that sort of unnaturalness--"

"Yeah, actually I do," snapped Alyssa incredulously. "It's a gift."

"It's a _curse_!" cried her sister, spittle flying as her face turned an ugly blotchy color. "An ugly cursed pox on all of us we swore we'd stamp out of him! You have no idea the strangeness of it. The things his mother came home doing when we were girls. You would have been too small to remember, but I do, and it's a wicked ripping shame our parents allowed it to go on."

"Good lord, what should they have done, disowned her? What did you do with him to 'stamp it out'?"

"We've tried to keep him contained--keep it all contained. Stuck him in the cupboard under the stairs--"

"You what?!"

"It was for only a short time," Vernon cut in, his face a weird shade of puce. "It was before he got his letter for that blasted school, which _proved_ that sort of bad blood will out..."

"Bad blood?"

"Yes, it's in there all right," Petunia hissed, her eyes wild. "His mother was one, he's one, the no account she met and married, her _friends_..."

"And because he is what he is, which he can't help being, you dare to try and treat him like some... lesser being?"

"He is! He's a _freak_! A plague that's visited on all of us. We'll be _well_ shot of him when he goes."

"Fine. _Fine_!" Her mind was made up in seconds. "If that's the kind of loving, supporting family you are, then up yours. You're the last thing he needs. Harry! Go get your things, you're coming with me. You want him out? He's out." Harry did not need telling twice. He bolted up the stairs two at a time and from the sound of things was making short work of the job at hand. Alyssa and Petunia spent several minutes of stony silence looking everywhere but at each other. Dudley whimpered softly in the corner and Vernon wrung his hands as his beedy eyes scrunched up in a hard grimace.

When Harry finally finished, he announced his presence by sliding a large trunk down the stairs. As it bumped its way to the first floor landing, Alyssa looked up to see him hauling a large snowy owl down in a cage.

"Geez, Harry," she said. "I meant just enough for tonight. We can come back for the rest tomorrow."

"This is it."

"That's everything you've got?" she asked incredulously before leveling a glare at Petunia who was watching the exchange with a nasty sneer.

"Just what the _hell_ kind of teenager can put all his worldly possessions in one measly trunk?" Alyssa said, rising and storming to the door even as Harry nudged the trunk through with the cage sitting on top. She turned to face her sister, positively fuming. "You know what Petunia? You need to get well and truly fucked. It'll improve your whole outlook. And Harry? As long as you need a home, honey, you've got one with me. Let's blow this popsicle stand."

With that, she slammed out of the door and grabbed one handle of Harry's trunk, hauling it to the car and sliding it into the backseat. Once she and Harry were strapped in, she gripped the steering wheel and exhaled long and low. Just then a streetlight overhead shattered, raining down shards of glass all over the car, street and yard. "Shit!" said Alyssa. "I hate it when that happens."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: For Kurai, mjd magpie, thanks for the reviews! As you can see I'm working on updating as often as possible and have a solid week to work on it now. Now I swear I'm moving away from her background and into the meat of things..._

Family Bonding

Alyssa cradled the phone with a shoulder as she tried to focus simultaneously on the conversation with Hetty and the article before her. In the past few days, she felt as though she and the boy straddled two different worlds. They had spent a day or so exploring London together--Alyssa because she had never before been to England and Harry because he had never been allowed out unless absolutely necessary. Despite that, she was amazed when he suggested they stay in a dingy pub with guestrooms upstairs, right in the heart of the city. No one else could see it apparently except for those who frequented it. In fact, it seemed that there was a whole subculture teeming with people of all walks of life right under the noses of the average Londoners.

"Alyssa, honey?" her mother's voice snapped her back out of her reverie as she tried to regain the thread of the conversation.

"Sorry, Ma, what did you say?"

"Have you heard from that sister of yours since Sunday?"

"No, actually. I doubt I will. They're a little too resistant to accept him for what he is and I'm a little too tolerant. I have a feeling I'm like the friend of the enemy a bit, and then too I had the sense that she's not a little jealous of her sister... and her nephew."

"If she only knew..."

"Yeah, exactly. She'd probably really hit the ceiling, and I think Harry and I both already had enough of the recriminations for things that are beyond us."

Alyssa spared a glance over at Harry who seemed engrossed in cleaning a broomstick.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Well, my main plans are to spend the rest of the summer with my brand new nephew," she said smiling as Harry looked up and grinned. "And when I get him sent off to school I'll come home and we'll just have to discuss what happens during the holidays. I've gotten one article sent off to Reems already on the big failure of a reunion I had, skirting around some of the seamier topics the readership would never get... and I'm working on a travel piece now from my experiences 'out and about' as they put it. I figure I have enough material on the mechanics of tracking down biological family and tourism abroad that it should keep me meeting my deadlines until I get back."

"Good to hear it. I still worry about you baby. And what are you and Harry up to today?"

"Ah... he wants to take me to some sort of alley where they all do their shopping. I've taken a look at it so far through the window and it is absolutely bizarre. Looks like something out of the Renaissance."

"Sounds like it's right up your alley." Hetty cackled at her own joke even as the connection crackled over the phone.

"Funny, Ma."

"It was cute, admit it. You know how you are about your Renn faires."

"True. Anyway, I've got to get going. This will probably be an all-day thing, and I think my battery's shot too already. It doesn't seem to take it long here for some reason--the phone or the laptop."

"Alright, well you two be careful off gallivanting on your own and tell Harry I love him and can't wait to meet him."

"Sure thing."

"Love you, baby."

"Love you, Ma."

As she hit the end button on her phone, Alyssa took a deep breath and looked over at Harry, who was still finishing up trimming twigs from around the base of his broom. Thinking briefly of how long it was before she had heard those wonders, she wondered if he had ever heard them from his aunt and uncle. Odds were he had not and that knowledge burned deep in her gut. She would just have to make it up to him, and considering the way things had worked out thus far, she figured she had already started in that regard. He would never have to deal with the kind of hatred and malice people could aim at someone for something as simple as the incidence of birth. Not if she could help it.

"So Harry, about finished?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. Are you ready?"

"Actually I was thinking I could really go for an ice cream. What do you think?"

"I think I know just the place."

***

True to his word, Harry took her straight to an ice cream parlor in the middle of the so-called Diagon Alley. They sat watching passersby as they ate, Harry furiously licking his rippled fudge cone and Alyssa spooning up a frozen strawberry cheesecake confection that she swore inspired pure lust. Without detracting from the pure ecstasy of the treat, her eyes and ears were full of the strangest dressed people have perfectly commonplace conversations about dragon scales and potions, 'Quidditch' teams, and the galleons it cost for this or the other thing. Once she realized that there must be a bank, she had Harry take her as soon as they had finished and proceeded to exchange what 'Muggle' cash she had for the wizarding currency. The exchange rate made her faintly nauseous as it appeared her own coin was not worth nearly as much as theirs. Harry's theory on that was an old prejudice against those who could not do magic. Apparently this was one of many ways they thumbed their noses at Muggles in an attempt to say they needed nothing non-magical people could offer. Rather than dwelling on it, Alyssa had Harry stop at the first shop she saw, one called Ollivander's where they actually made real wands.

"That's amazing!" To be sure, she had seen Harry use his to gain entrance to the shopping alley, but the thought of actually owning a handmade magical wand was all too tempting. "Let's go see if they'll make me one."

"Erm, I'm not sure it really works that way... most of them are already made for one thing and--" Harry broke off reluctantly as Alyssa hurried inside. By the time he caught up, she was already introducing herself to Ollivander himself. To Harry's surprise, the tape measure he remembered from buying his wand was already busily taking note of her frame as Ollivander clutched her hand in his, gazing at her intently.

"Quite so, quite so, Miss Newland. Let us see what we can find that might do," he said as he broke contact with her and started tutting and muttering to himself through the stacks of wand boxes. Harry wondered what game the old man was playing at, or if he had gone round the bend. He seemed thoroughly intent on finding his aunt a wand. He truly felt bad at the prospect of having to tell her that she needn't have one, but she looked so thoroughly excited that he didn't have the heart to tell her it was a moot point. He shifted from one foot to the other as Mr. Ollivander handed her a wand.

"Willow," he barked, "ten and a quarter inches. Swishy. Good for charms work."

Harry swallowed, then nearly choked as she flicked the wand and a tornado of papers swirled over the desk and the lights shattered. _Hang on, _he thought_, that shouldn't happen at all, unless... maybe it wasn't my anger that made the streetlamp explode._

"No, no," shrugged Ollivander, snatching the wand back. "That won't do."

And on it went as more boxes slowly formed a fat stack of discards. Finally, he turned back speculatively with a shorter box that most of the rest.

"We'll try this one. Birch with the core of a unicorn mare. She was particularly feisty and somewhat troublesome, but there you have it."

As she took the wand in her hand, Alyssa knew he had found it. A warmth spread from the tips of the fingers holding it, down her arm and throughout her body, pooling in her belly as she felt her energy build. She swished the wand in an arc as a sprinkle of stars fell from its tip. At last Ollivander's cracked face and watery eyes crinkled into a smile.

"Oh, good show!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands. "There we've done it. That'll be eighty galleons, Miss Newland and may you use it well."

So they left the shop at last ready to dip back into the pub for a hot meal. No sooner had they moved two shops down, however, than Alyssa spotted a shop window of kittens mewling and trying futilely to climb the glass walls of their cage.

"Oh, look! Oh, they're adorable. Tell you what, Harry, why don't you go find us a table and I'll be right there," she said, gesturing him on with a wave. "I won't be more than a minute. Go on and order me a bowl of stew or something and maybe some bread'll be fine."

"Alright," he said somewhat reluctantly. He thought of his friend Hermione and easily distracted she was by the fuzzy creatures. Yet his stomach was growling something fierce, so he decided to leave her to it. And if her soup got cold, he could just show her how to warm it again, he thought.

True to form, it was nearly twenty minutes later that she arrived and Harry was not entirely surprised to see her carrying a box with slits in the top and an ominous mewling coming from within. Her heart had been bought and sold for twenty sickles when she spied a calico 'kneazle'--apparently different from a cat--and she decided to name her Stitches, for she looked all the world like a sleek patchwork quilt. Alyssa could scarcely contain her own shock however, when she met up with Harry, only to find him seated with an elderly wizard who looked up at her with a piercing, questioning gaze that she found rather unnerving.

"Oh, erm, Aunt Alyssa," Harry said rising to greet her, "this is the headmaster of my school, Albus Dumbledore."

"Pleased to meet you, my dear," said Dumbledore, rising to take her hand even as she laid the cat box on the table. "I have been quite anxious to make your acquaintance."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Okay, I lied about the last chapter being the end of her background info, but this still needed to get out there and it felt like a good time... now on with the show. And next... our hero enters the picture more fully._

Expanding Horizons

"God Almighty knows," she said in awe. Rising over a cliff on the edge of a lake towered the most rambling morass of a castle she had ever seen, peaking high above the land with turrets and gothic arches, complete with great oak paneled doors. Alyssa was amazed that parents would send their children to such a dreary looking place, way up at what seemed to be the ends of the earth. Clutching the woolen pea coat closer around her, Alyssa trudged up the steep hill beside Dumbledore wondering briefly if Harry had brought up the streetlight incident and the wand. The wizened man had not said a word since they had made their trip to Hogwarts, other than to announce in the green flames that they were off to Hogshead Tavern. Once they stepped out onto the stone hearth in the dingy little pub, he directed them onward, simply telling Alyssa that the town was called Hogsmeade and was the closest village to Hogwarts School where Harry attended. Apparently, they liked hogs quite a bit, Alyssa thought as she passed through a set of iron gates flanked by winged boar statues.

When at last they had plodded up the great hill through the double doors and up several flights of stairs, Dumbledore finally ushered them into an office lined with moving portraits, strange gadgets, and a phoenix, which apparently was not a fantasy creature. Sinking into a wide leather armchair by the fire, Alyssa shook her head.

"I tell you, the foothills of Georgia got nothing on this place."

Dumbledore chuckled a bit at this. "One gets used to what one must. So tell me, dear child, how long have you known you were a witch, and why is it just today you have taken up a wand?"

"Uh... well," she said, casting a surprised glance at Harry, who seemed just as nonplussed as she. "I don't think I've ever really called myself a witch. This whole idea of witches and wizards is really new to me. I've always been able to do some magic though. I mean, even growing up I could do things if life at the foster homes wasn't going well or if the people at the state facilities weren't on the up and up, you know?"

"I see," said Dumbledore as though he really did not. "Typically here we have people in place in such organizations who watch out for children with your rarified abilities. I find it interesting that no one ever noticed and made sure you were trained."

"Erm, well, usually I only magicked in self defense I guess. But I was trained, sort of, once I was adopted."

"In self defense?"

"Well, things pretty much stayed on an even keel when I was in school or with other kids or something. I usually got on well with everybody, so there were no major problems. And usually even with adults things were okay, but if things weren't okay or they started going south in a home or something, then if I could I pulled a runner. I'd go to my case worker and she'd yank me out and find somebody she thought was better."

"And if you couldn't run?"

"Then I guess I kind of lashed out... magically speaking. You know, uh, somebody would have a cane in their hand--a good thick one--they wanted to beat me with, and it would just snap in three different pieces. Or, ah, some guy's belt started attacking him. One time, this foster mother I had was going to let her boyfriend put his hands on me, but the covers on my bed kind of wrapped around him and started suffocating him. I was about thirteen then, and that was pretty much my last foster home, so... "

She threw Harry an apologetic look, as if it were her fault the subject was broached. He did look distinctly ill, and had seemingly tried to make himself look smaller by scrunching down in his chair. Dumbledore, however, seemed intrigued and doggedly continued.

"And none of it was on purpose?"

"No."

"The foster parents never said anything?"

"My case worker probably would have thought they were stoned if they had. And that just would have gotten me out faster. Thinking about it that way, maybe some of them did, because I sure didn't last long in those houses."

"And when you ran, where did you go?"

"I had some friends--I mean, you could loosely call them friends. They took care of me, after a fashion. At least they had my back when I was staying on the streets, or if one of my foster parents came looking for me."

As she said this, Dumbledore noticed her run her thumb over a small tattoo on the webbing of her left hand.

"That's quite small compared to some of the Muggle tattoos I've seen. Where did you get it?"

"Ah... from the so-called friends I had. It was meant to represent a way of life I don't really subscribe to anymore."

Dumbledore gazed intently at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. _ Did he realize how deep those eyes seemed to penetrate? _ she wondered.

"I see," he said simply. "And what of the training you mentioned? Did your friends do this as well?"

Alyssa gave a short bark of laughter. "Them? No way. That came after I was adopted. See, after the last foster fiasco my case worker finally came across Hetty, who actually wound up adopting me. We've been a great match, Hetty and I. Most people who know her think she's just a strange spinster with strange ideas, but she and I really clicked. She shaped me into a better person than I probably would have turned out to be without her. She got me away from the g--from the streets. She got me into a new school, so I made better friends. And then, when she realized what I could do, she introduced me to Waya Adahy. He's a Cherokee shaman, and his name means wolf. At fourteen I thought that was just awesome."

Alyssa laughed again, this time more sincerely. "He'd probably say you look like a did--a sorcerer. But...this tattoo?" she said, fingering the dots on her hand again. "He knew what it meant and the day I met him he drew a fourth dot and told me I had another option. I could survive, live up to my heritage, and bloom. Then he introduced me to his daughter, Hope, and we became best friends. They both nicknamed me, Wesa. Cat."

Dumbledore nodded. "It all makes sense then, Native American magics do not typically use a tool to channel the flow of their spells... leastways not a wand."

They were interrupted at that point by a knock on the door, followed by the appearance of a tartan robed woman with spectacles.

"Sorry to interrupt, Headmaster," she said in a thick brogue, "but Scrimgeour is back yet again and refuses to leave until he speaks with you."

"If you'll let him know I'm coming, Minerva. I'll not see him here yet again. It was nigh impossible to rid of him the last time. If you two will excuse me a moment. Harry, if you will, keep your seat. I'd rather he not know you're here."

"Sure," said Harry, speaking up for the first time. He sounded as if he had no better plan than to do just that.

As soon as Dumbledore was out the door, Alyssa asked, "so who's Scrimgeour?"

"Our newest Minister of Magic. Looks a bit like a worn-out lion. Apparently he must be quite as bad as the last Minister if Dumbledore says keep away. Fudge, the last one, tried to make it appear that I'd gone off my knob last year."

"Really," said Alyssa, already thinking. "I wonder what this one's up to. The Minister of Magic... I guess that's like the Prime Minister for magical people, huh?"

"Right in one."

"Tell you what, you stay here. I'll go check it out."

And with that, she slipped out the door and down the stairs. As she did so, her spine lengthened, her skin covering over with fur as her arms came down to touch the floor so she walked on all fours. Padding stealthily down the rest of the way to the entrance hall, she stopped on the last landing and peered through the balustrade. Dumbledore was clearly arguing with a grizzle-haired man who was brandishing a walking cane and demanding that Dumbledore give his okay for Harry to speak with him. Alyssa growled softly at his presumption. Then, as their voices raised even louder so that it sounded as if it would shake the rafters, Alyssa flattened her ears and edged toward the top of the stairway.

"Blast it all Dumbledore! If we can't see him, the magical community may need to have it pointed out that he may be bent after all, how's that then?"

It was all Alyssa needed to hear. Roaring her rage she bounded down the stairs and leapt on the intruder, her teeth aching to go to his neck. Instead, she simply unsheathed her claws and laid down on him, growling low in her throat.

"Dumbledore," the old wizard rasped. "What in blazes? Get this thing off!" _Thing?_ thought Alyssa, giving him a silent snarl._ I hope you wet yourself, you ass._

Dumbledore leaned down until he was eye to eye with the huge mountain lion. And winked.

"Now there, er, pet. Edge off the nice man so he can get up, and perhaps see if the elves have a nice plump steak for you. That's a good big kitty." Grudgingly, Alyssa edged off the minister and padded back upstairs, her long tail twitching with agitation. "There now, Minister, you see," Dumbledore said, helping the man to his feet. "She did no harm."

"Dumbledore! Are you barking as well? What do you mean keeping that thing in a school? I'd heard tell of some of things that go on here--"

"Now Rufus, she's simply staying overnight. Hagrid loves animals, you see, and he had a friend ask him to keep his pet while he's out of the country."

"But here, among people! A jaguar!" Scrimgeour exclaimed, apoplectic with rage as Dumbledore ushered him to the door.

"Oh she's quite tame, I assure you. I'm sure she simply smelled your lunch on your breath or wanted to introduce herself and got a bit overzealous." And so he continued to assuage the minister's wounded ego as the two men stepped out the door.

-------------------------------------------

FYI: All that Cherokee is pretty much the pronunciation, because there's no WAY I could reproduce the script. Her tattoo is commonly known to be gang related, depicting a dot for each possible outcome for a gangster's life: prison, death, or handicapped.


	7. Chapter 7

_Canon? What canon? Oh, those last three or so books… their mother was a hamster and their father smelt of elderberries. I fart in their general direction._

Cht. 7, A Place to Hang Your Broomstick

Minutes later, after securing the gates behind Scrimgeour, Dumbledore returned to his study only to find Alyssa and her nephew quite comfy in two armchairs by the fireplace. Apparently, Alyssa had updated Harry as to her shenanigans and both were enjoying a satisfying laugh at the image of the current Minister for Magic sprawled on the stone floor with a large feral cat at his throat. They finally looked up as he entered and gave a little cough to divert their attention from what he conceded was quite an amusing anecdote.

"It seems your flagrant display was sufficient to curtail the minister's visit completely," he said as an introduction, tipping a solemn gaze over his spectacles at the appropriately chagrined woman. She fought a smile when she saw the little twinkle belying his own feelings on the subject.

Clearing his throat softly he summoned a chair and seated himself between them, gazing only a moment at the fire before taking a deep breath.

"Well, Harry, I presume you have told your aunt all the sordid details of your past as well as your parents' untimely demise?"

"Er--well, sir…not exactly," Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "We only got as far as telling her that I'm a wizard before she and Aunt Petunia got into a row."

"And in that two days' time, Harry," said Dumbledore, suddenly stern, "whilst you have been traipsing all over London with no protection--not even the blood protection Petunia gave now that you no longer call Surrey your home--you kept her in the dark as to the dangers of your situation, as well as hers."

Harry looked guiltily over at Alyssa, who sat dumbfounded. _What in the world is it now_, she wondered. For the second time in a week she felt her stomach clench at the thought that here again was another bombshell about to get dropped in her lap. There was only one thing that struck her before she could dare to ask what else she didn't know about her nephew.

"But--hang on a second--Harry does have a home with _me _now, whatever goes on with Petunia."

"Does he now?" asked Dumbledore pensively. "The fact that you accept him and allow him to house with you may well transfer the protection since your blood is the same, however, I do not wish to test the theory."

"That said, I do believe you have a lot of catching up to do on your family history and the dangers therein."

With that, he launched into an explanation of how Harry came to be orphaned and what dangers lay ahead for her especially should anyone find out about her existence. In an effort to allay her fears for her mother, if the Death Eaters he mentioned should happen to pick up the trail that led to her whereabouts, Dumbledore promised to protect her mother as best he could, with additional provisions that he meet with Waya Adahy to secure her more thoroughly. It was only with that in mind that Alyssa finally relaxed enough to consider the question he posed to her of how she came to be in the foster system in the first place.

"My suspicion is that the driver of the car took me to the nearby hospital," Alyssa reasoned. "He was later arrested for DUI, and for fleeing the scene even though he returned later. Investigators found that he had left on foot, but they never did find out where he went. He surrendered himself later when police questioned him, but he had no recollection of the aftermath or of what happened to me. Though, he was unbelievably inebriated and had a concussion to boot. Most of my parents' car was incinerated, so the consensus was that my body was simply never recovered."

Dumbledore nodded silently as Harry shook his head in disbelief. Here then was Aunt Petunia's handy lie. He did have family who died in a car crash, just not who she had said.

"Well," said Dumbledore at length, shattering Harry's reverie, "being that you are very much alive--and we'd like to keep you that way--I shall have to secure accommodations for you that will keep you from being found out as it were. As it happens, I believe I have just the place. I confess, however, that you will not be alone but rather will be forced to cohabit with two such persons who may not appreciate your presence. Unfortunately for all of you, you haven't much choice in the matter. On the plus side, it is quite close and no one knows of its whereabouts besides you, me, Harry, and a few of the members of the Order of the Phoenix…and your new roommates, of course."

Harry stole a glance at his aunt, wondering what in the world the old wizard had up his sleeve. At first, he believed Aunt Alyssa would be sent to Grimmauld Place, but at Dumbledore's mention of roommates--plural--who would not 'appreciate her presence', he was flummoxed. Surely Sirius wouldn't mind if Harry's aunt stayed over. She was hardly Petunia after all. What Dumbledore said next, thoroughly vexed Harry and Alyssa both.

"You, Harry, I will expect to stay at Order Headquarters."

Alyssa thought this was all a bit too much, as she still had deadlines to meet and was now unsure how she would be able to do such a thing when it was apparent she was expected to stay here, at the very ends of the earth, for her own safety. Before she and Harry could protest, he raised a hand for silence.

"Now, hear me. You, Miss Newland, will be located close by the castle so that once school is in session, should any emergency arise you will be on hand. Equally as important, however, is the fact that I should like you to add a layer of your own Native American magic--or medicine, as it were--to the location to further ensure the safety of those housed within. Harry, on the other hand, would not do well under the same roof as those I have given houseroom. He and at least one of their number are not, shall we say, the best of friends."

The only such person Harry could think of under that description was Draco Malfoy, a pureblooded wizard with a father who had recently been placed in Azkaban prison for breaking into the Ministry of Magic with other Death Eaters. Surely, Harry reasoned, Dumbledore would have no reason to protect the Malfoys. Before he could ask just who his newly acquired aunt would be forced to room with, though, Dumbledore rose and ushered them to the office door.

"If I am not mistaken," the old wizard said, "your baggage should already have been transferred to their respective places. I will, of course, escort you down to your temporary home, Miss Newland before Harry and I make our departure. And remember this you two, but repeat it to no one under any circumstances: your houseroom is located at the old mayoral manse of Hogsmeade town."

With that, he escorted the dumbfounded pair down the stairs, out the door and back to the castle gates. Once there, they wound back down the road nearly back to the village proper, before turning off onto a small drive that had nearly been completely overgrown through years of neglect. After some minutes, they rounded a curve and found themselves facing a modest sized two-story home of old quarried stone that was nearly black with dark gothic arched windows and peaked gables. Alyssa's first coherent thought was that it looked like the house of Usher. Surely, she thought as they stepped through thick wards of protection that felt heavy and nearly palpable, this was an ominous sign.


	8. Chapter 8

Cht. 8, Past Invading on the Present

_Through the banister railings she could see the two teens talking. She edged closer, peering through the gap as the redhead tilted her face up toward the ceiling and laughed, all full-bodied mirth and breathless gasps. The boy grimaced somewhat, as if unsure whether her laugh was at his expense._

_Alyssa wanted to go to him, snuggle into his lap and pat his head. He needed comforting, she knew. She watched as his expression changed to one of reverence when the redhead began talking again, and felt a little pang at the thought that he would devote so much attention to her. She was radiant and lovely, free with her kisses, but did not return his affections and attention._

_Alyssa would. She knew exactly what he needed. She would just go down and give him all her kisses, maybe nuzzle his cheek, and show him all the affection he clearly missed. She raised a chubby fist and grasped the gate beside her, shaking it and leaning her body weight against it for purchase. As she did, the flimsy clasp holding it closed at the head of the stairs snapped. With a squeal, she tipped headfirst, startling the teens below. "Aresto momentum!" she heard the boy bellow, his voice cracking, and then felt herself float downward. When she dared to open her eyes again, she looked into the upside down faces of the boy and girl peering down at her. But it was the rumbling sound of feet coming down the stairs that broke her out of her stunned breathlessness. When her mother swooped in and lifted her up, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air and screamed._

And woke. Gasping, she sat up in bed and looked around at her surroundings. Surely if that was a memory from earlier in her childhood, she must have led a charmed life, she mused. No sooner had she thought this, than a light rap sounded on the door before it opened silently. There, in the wand light, stood her always immaculate housemate.

"Are you quite well?" Narcissa intoned, a bit groggily, and yet somehow still sounded like the lady of the manor.

"Fine, fine. Sorry," she replied, blinking at the harsh light. "Bad dream."

Narcissa trained her wand away, keeping it lit. "Very well. Winky?" she queried. Then to the elf who blinked into view, "would you see to her? I'm returning to my chamber."

Alyssa yearned to bite out a derisive, "thanks" to the woman, but the pale beauty had already stepped lightly back down the hall to her own room. Such was their existence in the old mayor's home. Instead, Alyssa turned her attention to the shyly awaiting elf who had crept closer to the foot of the bed.

"What does Miss require?" she gulped.

"Nothing, nothing, don't worry about it-" she began, "-uh, actually, I take that back. Do you know if Professor Snape is here? Severus?"

"No, Miss," replied the elf at length, "tonight is Miss Tonks night to check on the hideaway house, Miss. Would Miss want me to get Master Snape a message?"

"Nah, I'll talk to him either tomorrow or the next day. Whenever he checks in."

"Yes, Miss," replied the elf, who bobbed a curtsey and blinked out again.

Alyssa ran a hand over her face and looked at the wind-up clock on the night table. She sighed at the hour, but resigned herself that it was a lost cause trying to get more sleep tonight.

She headed to the shower, turning it on full blast and added a few stoppered bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and a wash she had made herself. The hair wash and rinse were infused with tea tree, the cleanser with cedar wood and rosemary. She stepped in and breathed a deep sigh of relaxation as the hot water sluiced over her tired tense muscles.

In the few weeks that she had been sequestered in this house, she had not had as long a conversation with Narcissa as she had tonight. It spoke volumes about their situation.

The woman and her son, Draco, had been there when Dumbledore had arrived with Alyssa and Harry in tow. At their frosty reception, Alyssa could see why Harry was being sent to the Order Headquarters.

Given the family's ideas of what an ideal wizarding family consisted of, Alyssa could also understand why Narcissa and her son were kept away from Order Headquarters. Further, she knew full well why she was stationed here and why certain Order members kept a constant check on the state of things in the mayor's mansion. Not only did she-and they-add an extra level of protection in addition to Dumbledore's wards, but they collectively also ensured that the blonde duo did not recant their wishes to be saved by the opposing faction. Should they decide to risk a return to Lord Voldemort's side, Alyssa would Floo to Dumbledore's office straight away, lest they take back information to the dark wizard that could prove vital in the fight.

In which case, what Alyssa had in mind for the full moon rising overhead should help. With that idea, she ran through all the different issues that had arisen in her mind. She sifted through them, pondering all the ramifications, most especially the issue of her housemates. When she arrived, Dumbledore told her of the Malfoy family and the recent events that led to their exile from pureblood 'society.'

As it turned out, their patriarch had been sentenced to prison for aiding and abetting the Death Eaters in ransacking the Ministry of Magic only months ago. However, at the first wind of his master's idea for retaliation, he had sent his wife and son off to Dumbledore with an urgent request that they be kept safe. In return, Malfoy had given what little information he had, with the promise of helping to redeem himself as soon as he was released.

Alyssa was unsure exactly how he would go about doing this, or if on the other side of the prison walls he would even be repentant. Further, as she toweled off, she reflected on the conversation between Dumbledore and Draco when she and the boy were introduced.

"You're a Muggleborn too then?" he had said with a snide enough tone that Alyssa's eyes narrowed.

"Of that, Mr. Malfoy, we cannot be entirely sure anymore," Dumbledore replied, leveling a gaze at the young man before Alyssa could summon a response. With that, he turned back to Alyssa, looking somewhat pensive, as if he could not quite make up his mind about her and wanted to say as much, then just as suddenly gave a brief nod and swept to the fireplace.

"Oh, and Miss Newland," he said as he stood on the sitting room hearth. "Should you need assistance, certainly in case of emergency, this Floo is directly connected to my office in the castle."

From what she gleaned of that conversation, Dumbledore still did not trust the family, nor did their bigoted views change much. They were in this merely for their own benefit and to save their own skins. Well then, she reasoned, if I have to help them to help myself, so be it. With that, she dressed quickly and strode out into the back yard under the now lightening sky.

Since she had not yet eaten, she was in the perfect place to do what she had to do. Muddling through her thoughts in the shower had the fortunate result of clearing her mind for now, as did the cleansers she had used on her body. All were infused with herbs which not only cleansed the aura but warded off negativity and enhanced magic. Taking her tools out of the small satchel she wore over one shoulder, Alyssa prepared to get the proceedings underway.

She laid the empty satchel on the ground and placed the items on top. One, a turkey feather tied to a painted hoof by a leather thong, the hoof inscribed with an equal armed cross in a circle; the other, a bundle of sage; and the third, a bag of whole tobacco leaves. Standing clear in the center of the yard, she outstretched her arms and focused her mind. Feeling heat charging up from the ground and pooling in her belly, she flicked her hands out in front of her as a burst of flame erupted from the ground.

With the bonfire started and secured by a ring of stones she had already placed on the ground days before, she bent to pick up the sage bundle and feather. She tipped the sage bundle into the fire just long enough to set it smoldering. Then, holding the hoof end, she used the feather to waft the sage smoke as she worked in a large circle, just on the edge of Dumbledore's wards. She did her work in silence, with only the sounds of the forest around her as she cleared the area's energy of all negative charges.

She stopped and saluted with the feather at each of the four cardinal directions before returning to the center of the yard and returning the items to the satchel. She lifted a small drum laced to her belt loop and began a cadence like a heartbeat. Drumming softly, treading over the same ground she had just covered, Alyssa attuned herself to the life teeming in the nearby woods, on the grounds of the house, and into the forest and hills beyond. It was a different rhythm to the land she was used to, but she soon fell into step with the life around her.

She felt the wind on her face as a breath, the waking sun warming the land as it crested over the horizon, setting the trees aflame and casting shadows over the ground. And the ears of beings surrounding that area tipped toward her drum, hearing her call and request for protection.

When Alyssa returned again to the center of the circle, she tossed a few leaves of tobacco on the now smoldering fire, an age old appeal to the spirits. Settling herself on her knees before the smoking embers, Alyssa relaxed into a contemplative silence. After some minutes, she sensed rather than saw the presence she had waited for. She opened her eyes just enough to confirm what she knew would meet her gaze.

A gray fox stood just on the edge of the woods in the center of her field of vision. As her eyes met his, he inclined his head, then turned and trotted off into the woods. Alyssa nodded, knowing the full import of this vision. Should anyone come close to their hideaway, she would be warned. Satisfied with her work and now more than famished, Alyssa packed her tools, snuffed out the fire, and stepped quietly back into the house, not noticing as one of the curtains above closed, obscuring her housemate from view.

****

Late that night Severus Snape stood before a roaring fire in the Headmaster's study. He waited, clasping and unclasping his hands until the old wizard returned from his inspection. As Dumbledore entered and gestured Severus to take a seat, he wondered at the man's apparent discomfort and agitation. Years of watching the younger wizard gave him insights into the mannerisms and "tells," and when it came to the surly potions master, Dumbledore knew that Severus always stood when he had news to impart and was likely to pace if it were something of particular importance.

True to form, no sooner was Severus seated, than he promptly sprang back up again and began pacing. Never a good sign. However, not wanting to show his hand too soon, Severus introduced the topic by discussing another one altogether.

"I trust your bed checks went as well as mine, Headmaster," Snape said dryly.

"Both women are sound asleep, yes," Dumbledore smiled amusedly. "Likewise the grounds are still secure. In fact, our new friend has added her own magic to the mix as it were. When I approached the house I felt any number of eyes upon my person and had I been any such unsavory character or someone unknown to the area, I'm quite sure I might have been attacked."

Severus merely raised a brow at this. He had heard there were vast differences between their own magics and those of the natives to America, yet his education only extended to the flora of the Americas and their uses in potions. Native Americans were renowned for their animal and spirit communication abilities, however, so it stood to reason that the Newland girl would invoke their protection. It is something the Dark Lord would never consider, and as such, was a good move on her part. Before he could voice his thoughts, though, Dumbledore broached the subject he was most anxious about.

"That aside, Severus, I trust you have news of how it might be that Miss Newland and her sister both happen to be born witches in an otherwise Muggle family?" Dumbledore tipped his gaze over his glasses and waited.

"As it happens, I do," he began. "It was a bit of simple research, if a bit time consuming. Took me most of the afternoon in fact…"

Dumbledore nodded serenely, knowing that Severus had a tendency to drag these things out for effect. So he settled back in the armchair and prepared for a wait.

"What I discovered, over the course of the day, was that Grace Evans was in fact the granddaughter of a man by the name of Handford, who married a certain Winifred Smethwick."

"Smethwick, you say?"

"Indeed."

"Further, this Smethwick family when traced three generations back, disappears in the Muggle ancestry tomes and cannot be found."

"In their tomes… but not in ours, I presume."

"Quite so, as it turns out, that great great grandfather of dear Winifred turns out to be none other than Milton Smethwyk, Squib brother to Elliot and Leopoldina."

"Elliot, inventor of the Cushioning Charm and Leopoldina, the first witch referee in Quidditch…"

"The very same. And, might I add, Mister Smethwyk married himself off to another Squib, a certain Miss Marion Prewett."

"I see. This certainly sheds new light on the theory that magical families tend to die out and magic can be diluted through marriage to a non-pureblood, does it not?"

"It would seem so, sir."

"I wonder what some of our old families would have to say about this."

"Likely they would simply view it as confirming their blood superiority and ignore the fact that magic will out eventually, as with any genetic predisposition."

"Despite that, it confirms a theory I have had for quite some time."

"And that is?"

"That magic is a dominant trait that will out, as you put it, eventually. And that the more we intermarry, the less Muggles we'll have and the more magical families there will be. Of varying abilities of course. Before many years there may well be no question of blood status, only of the degrees of magic one can do."

"In the eventuality of time, perhaps. It is a small island after all."

"Severus, I believe this calls for a toast."

"Scotch?"

"Quite so."

"Two fingers for me then."

****

With his head full of Dumbledore's theories on magical and non-magical families, combined with a second glass of scotch, it was no wonder that the memories of his youth invaded his tired mind. When Severus Snape fell asleep that night, as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was inundated with dreams of afternoons spent at the Evans home and memories of baby kisses and Lily's tinkling laughter.


	9. Chapter 9

_Looong chapter to make up for such a long absence. Like I said in A Better Fate though, I mean to finish up my fics by April, and I'm holding myself to that. Enjoy this chapter though, I am quite happy with it myself._

Cht. 9, Someone's Always Watching

There had to be somewhere with reception, somewhere with _electricity_. With so many people in this culture from non-magic upbringing, surely not all of them had left it behind, Alyssa told herself. She knew the Muggle town of Dufftown was not far, so she could go there if she had to, and as her mountain lion guise she could cover more territory quickly and revert back to herself when she neared civilization again. It was risky, but since there was no way any Death Eaters should know she was a shape shifter, Alyssa considered the risk negligible.

Her mind made up, with deadlines for her articles looming closer, Alyssa stuck her laptop, phone and chargers in her pack and loosened the straps to fit her animal form. Here goes Wesa, she thought, and stepped as quietly as possible out the door of the mansion. Binky was occupied with the post-dinner washing up, and Narcissa already had begun her evening toilette. By the time they noticed she had gone, if indeed they did notice, she would be done with her writing and have zipped it off to her editor before the search even started. After all, she reminded herself, better to ask forgiveness than permission. She just hoped there would be an internet café open, or somewhere that she could hook up.

Alyssa shifted into her lion form just before she crossed the border of protection she had set up, her ears twitching to pick up any unusual sounds in the forest. Keeping just inside the tree line, she followed the road leading to town, skirted around buildings and houses, and picked up the road again to follow it out. Since it looked like no one in Hogsmeade would have a connection of any kind, she headed onward toward Dufftown hoping they were a bit more modern.

As she padded through the underbrush, however, she did not escape one pair of eyes on the edge of town. The stranger watched unnoticed from the overhanging eave of a shop front, as passersby went about their evening routines completely oblivious.

* * *

Barely an hour later, Severus Snape knocked on Narcissa's bedroom door. He had already questioned the elf to no avail, and the feeling of dread that had begun when he started his nighttime patrol of the property was now a fully formed ball of lead in his stomach.

"Forgive the intrusion," he bowed slightly as Narcissa opened her door a bit and clutched her robe more tightly to her, "have you perhaps seen your other houseguest since dinner?"

"No I have not," she answered, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, "she does, however, tend to keep blessedly to herself." As this answer was delivered with a tilt of her chin, Severus surmised that the two women were not exactly joining each other's fan clubs.

"Did she say…anything…at all over dinner about going out?" he prodded, knowing all the while that it was a futile effort.

"No."

"Thank you. Again, sorry for the intrusion."

With that, he stepped to the Floo in the sitting room and notified Dumbledore, who began a discreet search of the castle in case she had come through unnoticed. Severus, meanwhile, Disillusioned himself and did a quick sweep of Hogsmeade before returning to the house intent on killing the silly chit, if someone had not already beat him to it.

Alyssa, meanwhile, trotted stealthily back from town, well satisfied that her mission was completed. With several drafts of articles submitted from a tiny café that served nothing but pea porridge, stale coffee, and dial-up internet, she figured Weems should be satisfied as well for a few weeks. That would buy her some time before she had to sneak out again.

Her pride in getting cleanly away with this little adventure did not last long though. A moment after she cleared the outskirts of Hogsmeade her ears perked, whiskers twitching as she sensed someone not far behind. She picked up her pace enough that a human would have to run to keep up, and transmitted a silent signal to other animals nearby, an appeal to their spirits to give her aid.

No sooner had she done so then a flurry of wings broke out behind her. A team of blackbirds fluttered around a human who tried futilely to swat them away as they broke and winged their way off to gather more help. To her left she spotted her friend the fox. He lashed his tail as he transmitted back to her that she should bank left after the large boulder and circle the spring, following the stream that it fed into. She understood from the pictures he sent that the stream was the same that bordered the north end of the mayor's property.

Sending him feelings of gratitude, Alyssa turned a hard left after the big rock and kicked her paws into high gear, cantering through the brush as she heard someone swear loudly in the distance.

When she finally crossed the stream into the mayor's property, Alyssa was out of breath and clutching a stitch in her side. Too long without a good run like that, she chided herself. She did not get to congratulate herself on a speedy getaway though. As soon as she shifted back to her own body the back door slammed smartly, bringing her head up with a start, as she watched Snape striding across the lawn to her, his jaw set.

It took her right back to teenage days of skipping school and getting busted. She hazarded a glance at Severus again. Busted big time, she thought. Boy, he must be hell with the kids who were brave, or stupid, enough to cut his class.

"What in blazes do you mean, girl, by leaving the protection of this home and those who watch over it?" he stormed.

"I have a job to do," she snapped, jumping to the defense. "I have articles to write, an editor to appease, and a mother who might need to know how I am so she doesn't go stir crazy, and I have no way to do that from here. No electricity, remember?"

"Your job, you foolish girl, is not worth your life," he derided. "You have a nephew-such as he is-who now depends on you as well, and a mother who would have to bury her child-if there's enough left of you to do so-should you get caught by Death Eaters, as you are surely wont to, being that they are patrolling the town and surrounding areas. Should you be so stupid as to do that again the only thing, in fact, that your hometown paper will be printing is your obituary!"

"Thanks _so_ much for the touching concern," she said with acid sweetness, her drawl dripping with sarcasm. "That _nephew_, you happened to mention will need to be supported and I can't do that, _again as I said_, without a job! As it was, no one spotted me when I left. Most anyone here doesn't care if I live or die anyway, except for Harry, and-"

"What do you mean when you 'left' no one spotted you? Is that to say that someone did, in fact, notice you on your return?" he questioned sharply.

Alyssa barely resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. God but he doesn't miss a trick, does he? "Yes, I picked up on someone following me on the way back, but" she stressed as he hissed and started pacing, "but, the animal spirits helped me get away so he has no idea where I got to. Only that I was there."

"In which case, he knows now that there's something amiss in the forest and they will now double their efforts to watch that much more closely. Well done, you've tipped them off that we are, in fact, hiding something or someone here. That should certainly curtail your visits abroad from now on." He had stopped pacing and turned to face her, his brow arched defiantly.

"What exactly am I supposed to do now then? That means I have no phone, no internet, and no way to contact my editor's office or my mother," she bit her lip and took up pacing where he had left off. "If I hand wrote everything and sent them to Hettie, she could relay them via email so Weems wouldn't suspect anything, but that could take eons with those blasted birds of yours!"

"Perhaps," Severus said, completely unconcerned.

"Deadlines are always crunch time anyway, but that would be nigh impossible to meet them. Why the devil does everything here have to be so antiquated anyway?"

"Because, as you should well know, electricity and magic do. not. mix," he ground out. And it may have escaped your notice, but we do actually employ other birds for international travel who are much quicker than owls, especially now so when they are migrating for winter."

Alyssa stopped short in her pacing and gave in to the impulse to roll her eyes. "How _exactly _am I supposed to know that when I'm practically under house arrest? And when in the blazing hell were you going to get around to telling me this?" Severus merely gazed back at her blandly with those fathomless eyes of his. Damn him. Supremely unaffected as he seemed, she was glad for the spark of temper she had seen when he had dropped his control earlier. "What birds do you use then, and how would _I_ get hold of one?"

She had the sense that he barely resisted shrugging a shoulder. "Terns are not unheard of completely in this area and typically fly as far south as Australia. Our post does employ a few for international deliveries. If Dumbledore were to post them there would be no questions; he has any number of foreign associations, even in the Americas. You could very well send them to your native shaman, in fact, if you do not want your mum getting any undue attention from those who may intercept them. I would warn you-as would Dumbledore-to be careful of the wording of your missives, however."

Alyssa didn't know whether to thank him or slap him. Why hadn't he told her this before? As he turned on his heel and strode away, his cloak billowing out behind him, she shook her head. He seemed so stoic and controlled on the surface. But just under that, she felt a swirl of turbulence and the smoldering flame of raw power. He may keep a leash on those emotions, but she wondered briefly as she followed him inside, only to find him already gone, what would happen if that leash snapped.

* * *

Days later, two of Hogwarts' prefects made their way via Floo to the mayor's mansion, sniping at each other along the way. Alyssa, waiting outside in the rear of the house, heard them as they approached, sounding much like she and Severus from the days before. Draco slammed out the door, with the curly-haired girl friend of Harry's storming silently behind, her mouth pursed into a prim line and looking daggers at the boy's retreating back. Where Severus had strode silently, the boy glided. One hand in his pocket and the other carrying a cane, he raised his chin a notch as he set eyes on Alyssa and she was all at once reminded of his mother, who was likely standing guard in the window of her chamber above.

Alyssa glanced up, and sure enough, the woman's pale form backed out of sight, a silent admonishment to take care of her son. She watched, grimly amused as Draco made a show of draping his cloak over the ground and placing the walking stick on one side of it before stretching his long legs out, settling gracefully over the rich fabric. She wondered briefly what his animal form might be, something proud and majestic, she was sure. But there was time for that later. Today's lesson would be a simple scrying.

As Hermione joined them, Alyssa noted the stark difference between the two. Where Draco was passionate and proud, Hermione was earthy and grounded. They seemed polar opposites, and would make great adversaries, sure. But in fact, Alyssa mused, on the Cherokee wheel they were in fact conjunct. If they ever combined their powers, they would actually compliment well. Action and fire pitted with knowledge and a rooted determination.

"O si yo," she greeted. "'O si yo' is Cherokee for 'hello'." Alyssa settled herself on the ground cross-legged as Hermione did.

"O si yo," said the younger girl, frowning when her counterpart only plucked a piece of grass from the ground and sighed.

"Are we to learn the language or the magic," he sneered.

"A bit of both," Alyssa said with a saucy smile, completely unaffected by his cavalier disinterest. She knew that what was to come would snag his attention and keep it.

"For now, we'll start the circle. If you'll watch, I'll open it, then cleanse and purify us to begin. If you have any questions about what I'm doing, I'll answer them when I come back to the circle."

As she did when she arrived at the house, Alyssa rose and wafted sage around the circle, pausing at each of the four cardinal directions. She returned to the center, raised the shell and wafted the smoke above her, then wafted it downwards, and then waved the feather around herself and the two kids. Draco wrinkled his nose and leaned away from her, and Hermione sneezed softly. Alyssa laughed.

"It stinks to high heaven, but it is actually a sacred herb to the natives. And it is used to drive out any negative spirit from the land."

"We don't have to deal with s-spirits, do we," Draco asked, paling even more than he already was.

"Ha, no," Alyssa replied patting his arm. "That's quite a bit more advanced than anything we'll do for now. What we're doing today is scrying, but eventually I want to lead up to shape shifting. I'd love to see what your animal forms are."

"Do you mean to say we'll be able to change into animal form?" Hermione queried. "In transfiguration we've learned that only a few people are ever able to do that; it takes an extreme amount of concentration, and a natural aptitude, even according to some of the native American sources I've looked up."

Draco rolled his eyes at this.

"Ye gods, Granger, did you check out every book in the library that had anything remotely to do with native American magics?"

Hermione had the grace to blush, but said nothing to his leading comment. With a flash of insight, Alyssa knew that Draco had checked out a few himself.

"It's in her nature to gather knowledge, as it is in yours to jab and preen. She stores knowledge the way an animal might store food for winter. Hoarding it until it's needed. You, on the other hand, are the seemingly casual observer, quick and cunning, but with a very real tendency to pick on the weak or small. All of which is irrelevant now, and as I said, we'll get to it in time."

"Today," she said, waving her hand and causing a fire to erupt in the ring of small stones and effectively making the kids jump at the unvoiced magic, "today we are scrying into the flames. But first, as I said, if you have any questions about what I did when I began the ceremony, ask away."

And so, with the dying light of day, she slowly and patiently answered Hermione's barrage of questioning on the symbolism and purpose of everything she had done-even winkling a few comments out of Draco about the differences between her method of 'Seeing' versus Trelawney's sketchier version. He did show a bit of interest at the fact that her version was more steeped in spirituality than hazy references to the "Beyond."

Once dark was upon them and their questions died down to a somewhat comfortable silence, they draped their cloaks about them and faced the still crackling flames. When she deemed them ready, Alyssa gently prodded them into a more relaxed state.

"Quiet your minds," she said softly, sprinkling a few dried sage leaves on the smoldering edges of the fire. "Let yourself relax and watch the flames flicker and shift. They wave back and forth, with an ebb and flow like the tide. Your eyes will go soft, the chatter of your mind dies down, and you feel blissfully content and connected to all of nature. Under you, you feel the pulse of the earth, you feel her breath cool across your skin, hear the trickle of her blood flowing through her veins, the spark of her energy in and around you. Within you, above you, below you. Feel at peace, feel as one with her, and let go."

Seeing their jaws slacken, she let their minds drift where they would as they gazed into the flames. Knowing that they would see what they would see and eventually return, she settled into a solemn silence and simply felt the peace of the place steal over her.

Draco was the first to return to himself, shaking himself slightly when he realized he had "zoned" out, he flushed a bit as he regarded Alyssa's steady gaze and knowing smile. He looked away, into the flames again as if he could delve back into the visions it gave. It took some minutes for Hermione to come back, as it had taken her longer to relax and let go. She, like Severus, held a tight control over her mind and faculties-almost too grounded to let her mind take flight. When she finally did return, her brow furrowed as she surely wrestled with what was real.

"So, before you really start to question anything, throw out anything you saw whether you think you've imagined it or not," Alyssa began. "Don't analyze right now, and don't second guess yourself. Anything you saw in the flames themselves, or even in your mind's eye, as with a daydream, can be counted for now. We'll sift through the images and try to gauge their meanings later, but first I want you to know that your spirits took flight fairly quickly for those new to this path. So let's hear it. Draco, you were back first, you begin."

Slowly, grudgingly, Draco unfolded his lanky limbs and adopted a bored mien. "I saw my father in his cell," he said, staring at the ground and picking at another piece of grass. He glanced up in Hermione's direction briefly, but she was staring at the fire and not his face.

"Think now in terms of senses, and movement," Alyssa urged. "Did you smell anything, hear anything? What was he doing? How did he look? Call up the whole image in your mind."

"He was…stripped to the waist," Draco began, "doing push-ups beside his bed. Just those striped trousers on, barefoot." He licked his lips, then continued, "I smelled the air, the salt in it from the sea, and heard the waves coming in on the rocks at the highest point of the ground. It was high tide. And the strong smell of damp and dung," he ground out. "Something else with a tang in the air, I couldn't place it, but it choked me."

Alyssa got an image too, and if hers was correct Draco's father was where he got more of the striking looks and regal bearing from. Even in squalor, the man gleamed like a tawny-and very dangerous-lion. The smell he described was that of decay, but she did not want to tell him. She had worked too many crime scenes reporting on death not to recognize that stench. Feeling that he was wrung out from the experience, she let him retreat into his shell again, once more to be the observer. Turning to Hermione, who was watching Draco intently with something akin to sorrow, Alyssa said simply, "okay girl, now you."

Hermione started to see Alyssa's eyes on her. She hugged her knees and shivered once before beginning, "I was in a garden, my gran's old garden." At this her voice wavered a bit, before she cleared her throat and continued. "She was there, watering her verbena and lavender. I could smell them on the breeze-and I felt that, the light breeze on my arms. I was a little girl again. There was a gerbera daisy there that had wilted, the bloom was drooping, and I touched it-felt that, too-and said a strengthening charm for it, like Professor Sprout taught us."

Her voice throbbed with emotion, her eyes watery with unshed tears. She dashed them away with the back of her hand, and laughed a bit. "Sorry," she said abashedly. "Gran saw me do it, and I wondered a moment what she would say or think of what I had done. She never saw me do magic before she…passed," Hermione exhaled, took a breath, and started again. "She touched the bloom too, and looked at me all astonished at what I had done. And then she smiled, and hugged me to her. And she said, my Ermi girl, what a blessing you have!"

She smiled too, at the vision, almost a memory but not quite. Her face glowed in the firelight, illuminating the tracks of the tears that flowed freely now. Draco handed her a handkerchief. She blinked rapidly, as if realizing he was there, looked at the proffered cloth and then at her classmate.

"For the waterworks, Granger." His derisive reply was muted in its effrontery by the gravelly raw emotion in his voice. Draco clearly was recovering still from his own vision quest.

Alyssa cleared her throat gently. "The emotions that these visions have drudged up are themselves a clear indication that what you saw is real. You, Draco, ventured elsewhere in the here and now to visit your dad who you miss in your life. And you, Hermione, traveled to Spirit to visit someone apart from you as well. Those glimpses reinforce, though that we are still connected to them by a thread and can commune with them in trance by calling on that connection."

"Likewise, the sensory experiences are the proof. You felt and heard and smelled and saw every bit as much as you are now because you were there. Just as you feel the earth under you here, the flames warming your body, and scent of the herbs and fire in the air. Think of what else you noticed, what did you see at the beginning? What did you see at the end?"

"I heard wings at the beginning," Hermione said. "A flutter of wings just over my shoulder, and a raven cawing in the distance as it flew away at the end."

"I did too," chimed in Draco in awe. "I didn't hear it, but I saw it, perched on the window of my father's cell. My dad looked at me, too. At least it looked like it. He stopped what we was doing for just a moment and looked over his shoulder as though he knew I was there."

"People with abilities can sense someone in Spirit. The fact that you are connected father to son makes it that much easier. I'll ask you too. Keep an out for a sign or some sort of symbol in the next day or so that will let you know that what you saw was real. Typically it is something of nature that you come across, something that resonates with you. Or it may simply be an extremely uncanny coincidence-or several of them even."

"I will tell you this: in Cherokee medicine, Raven is a bringer of visions. Raven's medicine is that of the messenger and he connects you to Spirit. Raven's totem also shows up when you are at a crossroads in life, have a choice to make, or are about to branch off onto a new path. That could apply to both of you right now."

"That's right!" Hermione exclaimed softly. "I remember reading that. It's uncanny that we both saw or heard one then, as if to usher in the vision and then to take us out of it."

Draco merely looked pensive.

"Yes," Alyssa replied. "That is very typical." She glanced up to see Severus standing on the small portico watching silently. "And I guess that's our cue." The kids looked around to see their professor waiting nearby.

"Well," she said letting out a breath. "Just pay attention to your dreams tonight. They may be especially vivid and may even contain more images from your quests this evening. And don't forget what I said about signs," she added as they walked back to the door. Alyssa turned around and raised a palm toward the fire, then dropped it and the fire extinguished itself.

She said goodnight to the trio as they walked through the Floo, and to Narcissa as she passed the woman quietly regarding her in the doorway. Since Narcissa never spoke, she assumed there was nothing to be said. The other woman merely shook her head and returned to her room.

Back at Hogwarts, Severus led the students back to their rooms, Hermione first since she was housed furthest from his own quarters. Behind him the two walked silently side by side until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. When she made to return his handkerchief, earning a pair of raised brows from Snape, Draco simply waved her off. "Keep it," he said. Then added a moment later, before turning and heading down the hall, "it's got your bogeys on it anyway."


End file.
